The Stirring
by Christoffer Sal
Summary: Nature distorting spirits resembling Death Gods have appeared in the World of the Living hell bent on destruction. It's fate relies on Ichigo solving their mystery; what lies beneath, a King with biblical ministrations or a deadly secret dating back eons?
1. Prologue: You Probably Won't Enjoy This

_This is my first story published here, and it's a pleasure to meet you. Truly an honor to meet the infamous Reader. _

_Fair warning though, my story is rated **M. **As in if you're under the appropriate age you'll probably enjoy it. I'm not condoning you do so however, just stating the fact you'll probably think it's awesome. _

_If you don't like the certain breed of violence that is both graphic and in many cases completely unnecessary, back at now. This story also incorporates perverse humor and coarse language to describe it._

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Tite Kubo's Bleach. But I do own my bleach. How else am I supposed to get my shirts white? The whiteness of a man's shirt signifies how well a lover he is! 'Least that's what Isshin keeps telling me..._

_Another small note, my chapters are how long it takes to progress through a certain point in my narrative, so the length of em' might be erratic. But other than that, the odds are they'll be significantly longer than this prologue._

_Here we go._

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><p><strong>You Probably Won't Enjoy This<strong>

_Prologue_

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><p>The man quirked an eyebrow in irritation, and he let his spiritual pressure explode. It rivaling the feeling of a supernova; he was daring the darkened sky to challenge him.<p>

The heavens that transcend the sky roared in fury. The storm he'd provoked had consumed the town, tearing at the cultivated civilization. The world's rejection of the man echoed in the boom of natural forces; of wind, rain, hail, and the searing lightning protested against the man's existence. A man who left the calamity and disaster he'd created only to produce it elsewhere. A man ready to claim another life.

The woman momentarily lost thought at the crushing pressure he was releasing so effortlessly, but the deep crimson flow leaking from her acted to steady her mind against it. Her weak hand held pressure to the injured abdomen, but the blood was still pumping through. Her body was colored and soaked as if dipped in fresh death. She lay exposed and collapsed on the luxuriously soft carpet, slumped against the cold concrete wall that had recently been painted with her insides. The arm not stemming the flow of blood rose a tattered piece of her shihakusho to hide the immodesty of her chest, while the rest was laid round her waist, sheared at mid thigh. The rest of her was bare and dyed a tint of red.

Her vision flickered due to the immense spiritual pressure and her injuries. She was losing consciousness fast. _Not yet,_ she reprimanded herself, blinking her satin lashes. I have to stay awake.

Contrary to her current situation, her amethyst eyes were not diluted with tears, or fear. Her entire body was rigid with defiance, and cold acceptance. She would never die screaming and pleading. That just wasn't who she was.

Outside, the sky erupted in furious, chaotic light. The lightning fought with the man's immense spiritual influence and illuminated the room. The woman saw him stalking forward, the same calm grin folded across his face. There was something disturbing about the way he smiled. It wasn't a smirk or even something cocky like a victor is expected to wear. It was just _relaxed_. The woman turned away from that grin, instead she looked down at her crumpled and broken body. Which only served to make her feel worse.

The room darkened as the light was subdued, but the faint sounds of footsteps could be heard. He was moving closer, an amusingly slow trot to his kill. He was almost surprised at the woman's strength, still being alive after so many direct hits. It was either strength or pure determination to live. And no matter how much he told himself she was just another kill, he couldn't accept it. There was something different about her. He compromised with himself, deciding he liked the way she looked. Even in the state she was in, nobody could refute the fact she was undeniably _enticing_. Her long raven hair was almost purple in the way it shined in the casted moonlight of the broken window. The way that one lock of hair artistically loitered on her face was exotic and maddening. His feet stopped, and his eyes just took her form in for a moment.

"You know," the women gave pause to his voice. It was easily more frightening then the reckless crash of thunder or hail. "I think you're cute. No need to be so gloomy!" he raised his hands, palms forward in a non threatening gesture as another bolt of lightning crashed trying to rid the earth of the man. "In fact, I may have a crush on you."

"...Bastard." The woman could barely breathe out the word. _Everything hurts..._

The man laughed, amused by wasting time with such pleasantries. He stepped closer, allowing himself to inspect her. Her face was that of a petite girl. A slim nose with very attractive pink lips weren't even the most distracting part of her facial beauty. It was her eyes. Her large, shifting purple-blue eyes were mesmerizing. The irises were both azure and deep amethyst, centered around the black of her pupil. In a word they were breathtaking, and completely entrancing for the incautious. He admired them for a moment, but then he exhaled a deep breath.

I've already wasted enough time looking at her. He thought, allowing his eyes to form an exasperated look while a care free smile graced his lips. He came to the absurd realization he really didn't want to kill her. Wants are all but meaningless in his line of profession, though. He'd still kill her. Doesn't mean he had to like it.

The woman sighed as the man stalked even closer. His perfect teeth were shown in a simple smile as he examined the white and blue katana three feet away from the dying girl. He had made sure she was incapable of further resistance, although he wouldn't mind watching her dance around again with it. He chuckled at his growing perversion, it was getting out of hand. He stopped then and slowly tore his eyes away from her cold face to explore her body as he ran a hand through his dark hair somehow mingled with the color of ash gray.

The skin that wasn't blood-stained was supple and fresh. It was creamy and white like porcelain, and he imagined feeling her smoothness. He took a sharp breath, and his eyes meandered to the slim shoulders. Then her arms. First the one keeping pressure to her stomach. He loved the strain she was going through to stay alive, and the blood just excited him. His eyes caught the other arm, cradling the flesh of her breasts covered by the veil of black. Even so he could tell they were quite attractive for such a petite girl. He liked the shape of them. If anything, they'd be firm. His lips curved into an animalistic smirk.

He took another step forward and the woman twitched. Sultry skin convulsing, she folded her legs together, trapping the black garment between them. The movement was hardly unnoticed by the hunter. He delighted in the way she moved. Such elegance and beauty... She was like a feline. An exhaled breath was let loose as he watched her lower body. The curve of her hips was desired; to kiss, touch, and _possess._

He shrugged and his questionable curiosity of the dying girl, and continued his unhealthy examination.

Her thighs were firm, and her legs were slight all the way leading down to her little feet. Her crossed legs gave him now a new advantage. Their rise offered view to the bottom of her ass. And it drove him to a frenzy of lust he didn't have time for. Nor was he even supposed to have. A real bother. He knew he couldn't waste any time for himself, but a minute... Maybe two. He'd only touch.

The man gave in and smiled in wonderment. Never before had he been so forcefully attracted to a woman. The red that tinged her raven locks was exciting, wasn't it? The eyes like translucent pools of color stared unflinchingly at him. But not for long. The pain in her gut spiked for a second, making her wince in shock. He'd decided red was his new favorite color, and it looked best on her. He loved her perfect, crimson body.

A dark part roared inside of him at such sentimentality. Other of his Order didn't have such dark places, but he assumed when they got the eventual assignment he was sent to do, it wouldn't matter. They'd be forced to kill and destroy same as him

The man merely appeared indifferent to the girl as he thought, and she bit her bottom lip. It was cute.

Another bolt illuminated the room. The lightning revealed furniture, drapes, a carpet. All were ruined with with both blood and destruction. It was a savage reminder of the failure of the raven haired girl's mission. A kitchen and a bar were seen next. It was an apartment building, not a bad one at that. White collar, someone with money lived here. Or did.

The man stalked on, even closer, his chest rising and falling with excited breath.

The woman slowly looked in the hungry gray eyes of her attacker, and wondered why she thought she could do this alone. _Pride_, she thought wryly. She had faced this man confidently and uninjured not fifteen minutes ago. She closed her eyes and sighed. She could end it all now. Dig her hand into the wound on her gut, and kill herself instantly. It would only take a second, and it would save herself the inevitable time of toying he so seemed to be adept at.

But she couldn't.

No, she wouldn't. She still held on to something worth risking a prolonged death for. Her pride and, as she lay bare in a pool of her own blood, she entertained an impossible thought. And impossible hope. Maybe, just maybe, _he'd come_. She felt sickened by the very thought of _wanting_ him to save her life. Well, maybe not exactly wanting. She'd like him to come, but not make it in time so he wouldn't have to die. Because that's what he'd do, he'd yell and talk about friendship which would inevitably lead to him having no other choice to either kill the guy or get killed himself.

The man peered down at her suddenly humored face, wondering what she was thinking, his body not two inches from her. He liked her, he really did. His lips curled into a genuine smile, revealing humanity and reason. But his reason had long gone ignored. He crouched down to her, knees bent. His face was so close to hers he could hear her exhale. The breath tickled and swayed the fabric of his shirt. He slowly extended his hand forward, reaching the soft skin of her shoulder. The woman's skin crawled and rebelled against his touch, and she gasped coming out of her reverie. He felt the smooth contours of her shoulder. His other hand felt her petite face. His heart quickened, and he traced her perfect, pink lips untainted with lipstick or gloss or whatever with his thumb, and explored her facial beauty with his fingers. Her nose, her brow, the cleft of her ears. It was all so delicate but strangely powerful. He knew she could probably judo-toss a six-hundred pound man.

The woman was momentarily confused by the man's tenderness, but she saw nothing but indifference in his eyes. "Stop touching me," she hissed at him through clenched teeth.

"Oh, I apologize. It seems you're not the type of woman to enjoy the soft stuff. Honestly I don't care for it either. Let's see if you like it rough." The man's face burned with his intent.

She felt an overwhelming sense of dread as the man's fingers traced down to her open wound and proved her suspicions correct. In one fluid movement he punctured her deeper, laughing as he did so. The wound was now gaping and uncontrollable, a debilitating blow had become a lethal one. Kidou wouldn't save her, not for any meaningful measure of time. The man's face lit up in happiness and euphoria. A shiver of ecstasy running up his spine. He liked teasing her insides. On his way out he made sure wiggle his fingers eliciting screams from the woman.

His smile faltered as he took complete control over himself, ushering his emotion in the recesses. Before she passed, he wanted to do something. Not for himself, or that's what he told himself. He'd have to do it now, though; he felt another pressure quite powerful. Not nearly as intense as his, but there could be doubt who the man approaching was. He needed to do it perfectly. And it had to be done while she was alive, and without the protests of his troublesome counterpart that resided in the depths of his dark.

Might as well add more to the game? The self-same tingle of ecstasy passed through him as his hands glided across her smooth legs. They danced upon the supple skin of her thigh. Tickling it, getting ever closer to the ripped shirt. He suddenly stopped and raised his desire driven face to hers, wanting more than anything to kiss her at the exact right time. Oh, this would be fun. The dark side of him seemed complacent with his intentions, but it still offered protests to the waste of time.

He leaned closer, his lips touching her soft ones. He actually wondered what she'd taste like. His mouth parted and his voice choked with lust and pent up emotion. And that's when he realized it. He wasn't going to kiss her because that other pressure could probably witness his assault via intimacy, no. He was doing this in a remembrance of a life lost.

"Well, you probably won't enjoy this. But try, ay' Rukia?" He crushed his lips to hers.

But it didn't matter. The normal life he had once before would always remain a memory. Or maybe none of it was even real. Maybe it was merely a fantasy. A fantasy full of soft kisses and grocery shopping. The side full of hate and strength laughed at what he knew was his weaker self.

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><p><em>Just noticed that this seems like a cliff. Sorry about that, but I really wanted to set up the story in a capacity that wasn't too long or busy. All the same I really tried to make this scene imaginable and the characters realistic. And that's all I ever do. I do, however, take no joy in informing The Reader that this story doesn't have much of a shot to go on. I'm trying to accomplish two goals: Get better at this craft in which I feel enslaved and bring inspiration, passion, and entertainment to those that read my work. If I get enough reviews with this story I'll be forced to reconsider my words seeing as that will fulfill my range of achievement. If it doesn't I'll move on to something that's worth both mine and your time. <em>

_Til' the next._

~CS


	2. Chapter 1: Love Washed

_This is the second chapter of a story I thought very surely I wouldn't continue. But I have. Hopefully that pleases The Reader._

_My warnings are the same. This is **M**. If you're offended by vivid imagery of blood and death, cussing, or any other such fun stuff then don't read this._

_Disclaimer too, of course. I don't own bleach nor do I own Subway. That qualifies to the chain restaurant and the smelly form of transportation. _

_And for the second time:_

_Here we go. _

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><p><strong>Love Washed<strong>

_Chapter 1_

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><p>A lightly lit room was conjured into the mind of the man on the soaking street. It was painted a blue pastel, the ceiling slightly darker. The hard wood paneled floors took host to a dresser of mahogany with a TV and computer sitting atop it. A guitar laid strewn casually in its case against a folding door closet halfway open. The light illuminated what could have been living space in the closet, but shadows hid the answer. Under a wide window with green curtains, a bed stood against the floor. It was modest, a twin at best. The bed and its blue covers were in a state of chaos as the orange hair of a man barely exited the sheets.<p>

The other window was half open, with a woman half out of it. Her black robe covered all but her face and hands. A menacing blade strapped to her side. The dark raven hair twirled as she looked over to the sleeping man. The light from the window accentuating his already blazing hair. A slight smile dancing upon her pink lips. The room, the sky,_ she_ was so peaceful. She turned her head towards the red line of the horizon as she made to exit the window.

The sheets did nothing to calm the internal struggle of his heart beating faster and faster. The bed camped man wasn't asleep; merely pretending to be. He'd say something this time before she left. No more easy outs, no more tomorrows. See a chance and take it. His mouth twitched several times, begging sweet or romantic words to come out of them. All that resulted was a barely audible choking noise. The girl had both feet on the windowsill and the man said literally the first thing that popped into his mind.

"Uhh, Rukia! The man is supposed to skip out afterward, not the girl." It was at this point he came to the full realization that Ishida was right. He was indeed an idiot. The orange haired man sat up a tad, the sheet pooling down to his waist and topped off his farce by patting the pillow next to him with an awkward smile. "C'mon, come back to bed. It's still warm."

"What?" The only thing more red than her blush was her anger as she jumped from the sill to the cramped space of his room. She looked scandalized as her eyes drifted down to her sword almost as if deciding if she should draw it. To the man's obvious displeasure she opted for words instead. "Couple things escaped your notice, idiot. For one, I live in your closet, so the bed isn't warm because of me being in it, or _doing _anything in it as you seem to like to think, _Ichigo_." the woman positively spat the name at the visually frightened still as stone man wishing he'd said nothing instead of implying that she had sex with him in the night and is now attempting to escape in some sort of weird cliché romantic comedy.

Rukia didn't let up. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" To Ichigo, Rukia looked positively steaming. And steamy as he adored the way she held herself and acted all tough when she was angry. No time for lingering on the raven hair in cute tussles ending past her shoulders, though. Nope, no time at all for the violet eyes that made him both strong at the heart and weak at the knees simultaneously. They nicely emboldened her skin. He shook his head of thoughts that'd just get him in even more trouble. He smirked at his hopelessness when it came to Rukia.

His mind was made up. He decided to go with a different approach then that of a frightened child being scolded. He adopted and airy smile and stretched casually on the bed noticing the raven haired girl's eyes linger on his muscles. She lingered too long and unbeknownst to Ichigo she was mentally berating herself as-

"Are you checking me out, Rukia?" Ichigo cajoled with his signature smirk. Her face turned three shades of red, and Ichigo's expression softened as she turned away, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of him. For a moment he just took her in. The petite girl leaning out his window, participating in their usual banter. As his amber brown eyes looked at her, emotions stirred within him. Ones he thought better left uninvestigated. But his heart always had a thing for cold cases. It opened a few pages and Ichigo remembered the contents.

Their first meeting with the hollow and the sword. The promise and the beginning of something, many things actually. Power, bravery, duty, responsibility, laughter, fun, friendship, more than fre- He stopped himself as he felt a cold hand grasp his train of thought. In his mind he heard the faint sound of a horse neighing. Almost like an equine cackle. He tried to steel himself from the emotions, the memories he shared with the slight Shinigami. A flash of fire got through his mind's mechanisms; that flash taking the form of a phoenix. The Soukyoku bearing down on Rukia threatening to burn her away. Just as quickly though the image vanished replaced by the devil blue of a white robed man's hair. His hand pushing itself through Rukia's body squeezing life where Grimmjow believed didn't belong. That too faded as dozens of other painful scenes ran a merry go 'round of terror in his head.

They all shared something in common. He wasn't able to protect Rukia; she always ended up getting hurt. What entitlement did he have to feel this way. He didn't deserve her and he didn't think he ever would. But he couldn't close the case no matter how cold things got. His heart ran warmth for her; the inspiration for getting stronger was always to be able to protect those we cared about. And another reason, if he became strong enough, good enough, maybe he'd deserve her.

But maybe that didn't matter anymore. Ichigo's head was getting caught in jumbles with his confused emotions. His head hurt and he blinked. He finally started taking in reality again.

Suppressing a slight blush, Rukia turned around back towards the window. "Nothing on this or any other plane of existence could ever make me 'check you out'. And I'm not skipping out either, I have a mission. I received word from the Captain an hour ago." Rukia could hardly keep the pride out of her voice as she smiled at her orange haired roommate.

His riddled emotions took a back seat now and Ichigo's reaction was quite different from hers, his disposition turning serious almost immediately. "Is it dangerous? I could come with you. Ten seconds." he said while struggling with the sheet covers in a futile attempt to extract himself from the bed. It was futile because he ended up falling flat on his face. The sheets were silently cheering or it would seem that way to anyone who could hear the muffled cries of victory. Hidden, a lion plushy fist pumped.

Rukia's melodic laughter erupted at Ichigo's blunder. He picked himself up and couldn't help his face being plastered with a genuine smile. He loved the way she laughed. So carefree and loud, so reckless and fluid.

"Ichigo," Rukia began, "I don't need a babysitter for my missions. Even one as...coordinated as you." She bust out laughing anew, holding her sides. Her eyes were wet and squinted in hysteria as she feebly pointed at him with a spare finger. Ichigo was finally getting agitated by her mocking.

"That wasn't even funny, you freak! Stop laughing at me!"

"I know you're strong carrot but I am a Shinigami-" a mischievous smile lit her face. "Not just a cute girl you like to fantasize about." She stopped for a moment. "Maybe that's why your bed is warm? Hmm." She turned her raven head to the sky and pretended to ponder it and shake her hips from side to side in a teasing fashion as Ichigo sputtered in outrage.

"I, I d-do not! Ya damn midget! Don't say shit like that! You're hardly even good looking!" Ichigo crossed his arms, satisfied with his sixth grade insults. He pointed his head in the other direction, one eye still looking from the side at Rukia's methodical rhythm with her hips.

The raven tressed girl stopped her repetitive motion and her face turned downwards. Her tresses obscuring her face and her hands played nervous gestures with themselves as something wet and small hit the ground from the direction of her colorful eyes. Stepping down from her perch on the windowsill she slowly approached Ichigo. Emotion ran obstinate and finally cracked in her voice.

"You really don't think I'm pretty?" Rukia said with such sincerity Ichigo's heart froze in panic, thinking his obvious lie had upset her.

"No. Rukia, I didn't mean it. I was kidd-" He held her shoulders.

"Yeah, so was I, stupid carrot. You're even easier to fool than Renji." Rukia raised her face, revealing a beaming smile.

"Fuckin' midget!"

Simultaneously, they both started laughing. For Ichigo it was a rare occurrence, before Rukia he hadn't laughed since his mother passed away.

Rukia's laughing quelled after a while, but kept the smile Ichigo was partial to. "You know I have to go..." She danced on her feet for a moment, sickened by how school girlish she was acting. _New Rule: Control yourself around Ichigo_. Looking one last time at his amber eyes, Rukia turned back towards the window.

Ichigo felt his heart tighten inside his chest smacking him with the cold case repeatedly begging for him to solve the mystery of "Ummm. Do I like her?" It wasn't that he couldn't figure it out; more his refusing to look at any evidence. The way he smiled when she looked up at the sky or asked what 'Subway' was. The intensity and sacrifice he'd go through to protect her. The fact he'd lay down his life to keep that gorgeous woman happy. Because she _was_ gorgeous and she was everything to him. From the beginning to the end she was his light. His guide, his determination, and his love.

He decided it was time to stop running from it. He was undoubtedly, inexcusably, love washed.

Ichigo hesitated for only a second, then grabbed her wrist. Rukia had a sharp intake of breath as she was being pulled closer to Ichigo. He felt the smooth skin of her arm and pressed her against him, the scent of her enveloping his senses. He craned his neck downward and looked into her violet eyes. Without another moments thought he pressed his lips against the warm skin of her cheek and lightly kissed it. His lips parted and he moved casually to her ear, smirking at the excited tremble he could feel on her skin.

Ichigo whispered into her ear, "Be careful."

Rukia's head pounded with emotion and she thought bitterly _good job controlling yourself._

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><p>The orange haired Shinigami substitute picked himself up from the cold street, his clothing sobbing and his mind throbbing. That memory, the kiss, the feelings, the goodbye ripped and cut at him like a fresh would leaking blood. Every word was a drop and every step was a breath.<p>

The sky was overcast, obscured by the deep, throbbing black masses that were clouds. They enveloped the old expanse of blue blotting out light. Karakura town was dim. It was also empty. A great deluge had opened in the black sky, marking inhabitance in the town utterly unsafe. The people were gone, and the buildings stood slowly eroding in the now five day storm. Everything around looked bleak and forgotten.

The city was dying. The rain must stop. More specifically, the cause behind it. And even more importantly he had to find her. Karakura town could become the next Atlantis for all he cared. He needed to find her.

Beneath the sounds of thunder and deep azure rain hitting concrete, a singular sound could be heard. A unique sound considering the last bus of populous had left a day ago. It was the sound of a man breathing heavily, running through the rain washed streets.

The deep rain plastered his orange, spiky locks to his face. The boom of thunder had all but deadened his ears. The toll of running this long and this hard was physically exhausting, especially in the current environment. But he couldn't stop. He _wouldn't _stop. A memory of her seared through his mind, and he fell to his knees, yelling obscenities at the sky. The black shihakusho he was wearing felt heavy with absorbed water. He got back up, again running through the streets with unrivaled determination.

Instinct led his trail, he had lost her spiritual pressure ten minutes ago. Not that it mattered, he was terrible at reading it anyway. If not for this immense _feeling_ of her, he'd be lost in the flooded streets. His sandals pattered against the shallow areas as he continued his mad dash.

Guilt devoured Ichigo as he raced to find Rukia. _He should've come with_. He could still feel her cheek on his lips. That kiss had been five days ago. The same day the rain started. But it wasn't rain at this moment, it was a dark reminder of his failure. Shame hurried his steps.

All the reporters and meteorologists were baffled by the occurrence. No one had come forth with a logical answer to the flood. No one could find a solution to deter it, either. The inhabitance had been forced to evacuate, Ichigo himself even left.

He was sleeping the very night in an outlaying motel not long ago, and he woke feeling the spike in her spiritual pressure to dangerously high levels. Her limiter was clearly gone. Then he felt her pressure dwindle to nothing. _Nothing. _If she had won the fight, she'd still be covered in some. Even if the fight was consuming, her pressure would still remain in remnants. It was this that forced him to come after her.

The incredible wind blew the hem of Ichigo's black garment behind him as he curved from one side alley to an open road. Rukia was here. Somewhere. And in trouble. Ichigo kept his pace a tumult as he thought sarcastically, _she most certainly does need a baby sitter._

He was right! Damnit, he was fucking right! That thought was his own as he remembered the inhibitions about deserving her and letting a spark of love ignite. Here it is again him letting her slip through his fingers. Worry nulled his senses and the visage of her dead, of him being too late was more punishing than the rocket boom of thunder. His history with her was full of such occurrences. Starting from Byakuya laying him low and taking her back to Soul Society. To be executed. He had barely rescued her before another threat emerged. A devilish captain by the name of Aizen had abandoned the Thirteen and waged a war of deadly significance. His espada had terrorized and killed. The image of a blue-haired Grimmjow as he easily slashed down Rukia lit his imagination. He saw that one playing every night and before every decision. He mentally cringed.

Rukia was the one person his new life stemmed from. She had given him the power to protect, and he was wielding it ineptly. He'd never forgive himself if he found her dead, or too late to save. He _needed _a more exact location on her.

He got it.

The heavens recoiled with fear as a monumental pressure shifted its weight into the sky, challenging the very forces of nature.

Ichigo was rocked to his core. He couldn't breath, he couldn't think. The pressure was suffocating, but a singular thought did escape. _That's where Rukia is_.

His face a grimace, he overcame and ran his flash step to the source. The storm was deadly, and it was dissipating the pressure that was unlike anything he'd ever encountered before. It was unlike any Soul Reaper or Arrancar. Nor was it Bount or have any similarities with the subtle force of a Quincy. The only thing he could tell was it was dark. Forcefully violent and arrogant. Aizen again leapt to his mind, but the fear was replaced with reason. Aizen was dead, snuffed by Getsuga. His espada were also dead and gone, laid to nothing but memory by the Reaper Elite. The battle resulted in his dwindled spiritual presence. It'll only be a matter of time before he's left only with a horse to ride on.

Releasing his own pressure to hurry his flash step, his face paled.

Feeling even the small amount of pressure, he knew it closely resembled in dynamic the much heavier force battling the sky. _Is it a Vizard? _No, the pressure was different from that of Hirako's and his gang.

And so was his. Every time the sky was rebuffed he heard something. A screaming pierce of aggression. Inside the two intermingling forces that was scourging Heaven he identified two distinct sources.

A horse and it's rider.

Ichigo felt his pulse quicken as he thought he was getting ever closer to both saving Rukia and tearing away the veil from his fragmented origin. What was he? In control, or controlled.

The dissipating pressure consumed the tower of steel and iron that loomed before him, the dark sky and rain making it look more like a fortress than an up scale apartment building. Although Ichigo knew the building was for the posh and pampered, he couldn't see it now. The building was dilapidated and decrepit, as if an earthquake had smashed its former glory to nothing but congealed revoltion. The glass was shattered, and the concrete was cracking with crystalline ice. The steel in the building was bent at awkward angles, the building would fall due to stress or the storm soon.

It was too risky to flash into the building and get blindsided. Usually he wouldn't mind, but Rukia was in there. He didn't need to spook something with that kind of power. Spying through the open windows, he searched for an opening. Second floor: hallway, easily accessible. Third, a couple of empty and collapsed rooms. Fourth...his head pounded, and he froze in joy...and then terror.

A raven haired women lay before a man enveloped in shadows. They were like marionettes to his fingers, receding and encroaching seemingly based on his whims. The wall behind her was covered in deep color. _Blood_. Rukia's face was pale due to blood loss and apparent trauma to her abdomen. Her body was bare for the man cloaked in darkness to see...and touch.

Ichigo's happiness at finding Rukia alive, albeit mortally injured, dissolved as he saw the figure lean in and whisper to her. That lasted only a second as he then stole a kiss from her dying lips.

One second of calm.

The furthest wall of the apartment exploded in blue force and Ichigo's humming blade cut into the atmosphere exactly what he was thinking.

_Fuck precaution._

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><p><em>I really do have the nastiest habit of leaving cliffs in the road of narrative. It's not that I hope you trip and fall, well yes it is, if you're falling in love with my writing. I love fans. <em>

_Anyway, this was a bit wordy, I know... I tried to capture Ichigo's essence while also making it plausible that he would actually kiss Rukia. I don't think I did the best job of it but I can guarantee I'm much more proud of my realism when it comes to blood and combat. Stick around, review, help me make sure writing this is worth my time. If It's not I'll try something The Reader might like more. Oh. And does anyone have thoughts on if I should use an existing language for my terminology (names, attacks, abilities, swords) or just make up my own? _

_'Til the next_

_~CS_


	3. Chapter 2: No, That's My Butt!

_Alright, hey. Sorry it took so god damn long. You must be furious. Actually, considering only like eight people read this story maybe another verb less emotionally concerning. Anyway, I was on vacation in a swanky little hotel. If you've never been intimate in a jacuzzi before I strongly recommend you try it. It blows your mind; and a synonym of 'mind' if I may add. _

_Again, sorry. I'm being disgusting. Then again, this is a great example of the **warning** I'd like to express about my narrative. It's **M**, not for young audiences. Meaning, if you didn't understand my perverted jokes you probably shouldn't go on. _

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach nor do I pretend otherwise. I'm trying... semi-hard on creating a decent continuation on storyline because I think it'd be nice to actually read plot instead of witnessing it. I really haven't found any fan-fics that actually take Bleach, it's whole and entirety, and put it into words. Any new character obviously belongs to me, yada yada yada. _

_The third has arrived._

_Here we go._

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><p><strong>No, That's My Butt!<strong>

_Chapter 2_

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><p>With a solid eight feet of concrete now displaced from the corrupted fortress of steel, glass, and heavy strain a tremble was felt across it's foundation shaking the world above it. Like balancing on an exercise ball Ichigo didn't even consider falling flat and upping the survival chance. Nor did he consider surveying the room. If he had he would've seen the assailant being pulled into the dark by manipulated shadows, a portrait of a blue haired child with a hopeful smile and rimmed glasses, and he would've noticed the ceiling slowly falling apart.<p>

Beams falling, chucks of construction raining. The building was coming down starting with _this_ room. Ichigo's eyes and throat were clogged with gray and brown thinly dispersed dust yet he got where he wanted quite quickly. The raven locks of a woman were flung back and forth as if the head they were attached to was frantically searching; looking for something. Ichigo sidled his back against the wall curving down beside the petite girl. His heart caught on it's own emotional tremble as he thought _thank god she's safe._

"Rukia, it's me. Alright, what we're gonna' do is keep quiet and slowly-

A hand came around and slapped the words right out of his mouth. "Ichigo? You idiot! You didn't have to blow up the damn building. God damn moron."

He felt the stinging red on his face and winced. "Look, whatever. Remember the quiet thing, ay midget?"

"Please don't think I don't still have a shoe to hit you with, berry head." Rukia trying in vein to both grab a shoe from her little foot and keep her tattered clothes around her seemed impossible especially with a deep swell of crimson occupying her side.

"He's gone. Rukia, I'm not going to ask what happened to your clothes. That's your business. But I do have a problem with how rough you like to play." Rukia tried to interject, violet eyes wide with fury. "But I have to get you and me outta' here as soon as possible before my mistake kills both of us and we're known as those idiots who died while one tried to bludgeon the other half naked with her shoe."

Rukia shut up. Ichigo let out a sigh desperately trying to remain focused on the task at hand. With an iron hand on his will he decided he wouldn't ogle Rukia while she was quickly dying in a room that was quickly falling apart.

Finally he decided to view the room. Too bad the dust limited his vision to only the beautiful mass of broken Rukia before him. His 'iron' hand lost a round there. He'd get out the same way he came in then. Drop Rukia off somewhere safe; get her medical attention. He knew just the person who could save her. It seemed his appearance somehow revitalized her little midget spirit. After that he'd go figure out what the hell was playing bully with tornado force winds. He had to do all that without being called a pervert or an idiot.

"What? Ichigo, no! Don't pick me up like that! Pervert, stop! No, that's my butt!" _Objective fail_ Ichigo thought as his face easily turned the color of a summer fresh tomato. Extremely embarrassed, the orange haired Shinigami subtly removed his accidentally placed hand from his raven haired friend's ass and swept his arm down to the crook of her legs at the knee. Bridal style. Ichigo slowly walked through the rumbling room with structure that now whined ready to burst in pathetic tumbles with the tiny bundle that was Rukia. Wrapped in her tatters her eyes searched across the room and the outcropping building seeing what she could.

"Ichigo! There he is. On the opposite building. He's just standing there. Like he's waiting" Rukia silently prayed her carrier wouldn't say what she thought he would.

"Good. I'll know where to kick his ass after I get you safe." Ichigo mentally braced himself for the second strike.

Prayer sucks. "Idiot! You can't handle him. He doesn't even seem real. When we crossed blades all I felt was coldness." Rukia closed her eyes and bundled herself together more. "Don't go. Let someone else handle it for a change. You've done enough. I don't know what I'd do if-"

"My thoughts exactly." Ichigo met her eyes with his blazing brown. Determination etched into his face and a signature smirk ebbed brute confidence. "I don't know what I'd do if I let the bastard get away that ripped you up like that, Rukia." His smile quirked. "As your pansy ass brother would say, my pride wouldn't allow it." The big talking substitute took his last looks around the apartment building slowly falling away. Piece by piece. His feet felt the juncture where the blasted away steel lay exposed.

He jumped into the night.

Rukia clung to him harder; face down on his chest and neck and instantly being pelted by the hard splashes of rain. The blood being erased painfully away into a nice little stain on Ichigo's swanky little reaper attire. The raven haired girl's hair gleamed it's purplish tint and more and more air was falling away; the duo was being slowly encroached by the ground awaiting them. The air was cold and the rain wet, but Ichigo felt a strange warmness. Coming from two sources: a blazing, challenging one and a gently hurt one.

The stronger of the two was no doubt coming from the little beauty Ichigo now held in his arms amidst the sky and the moonlight. The other loomed atop the derelict building not far away burning his consciousness with the similarity of it's soul to his.

Ushering a small portion of pressure beneath his feet Ichigo landed safely with his parcel. Rukia bobbed her head in a dazed unawareness. He didn't worry though, it was the weave of an exhausted girl not the death bringing unconsciousness of a black out. Above them the sky was still fighting roman tank style against the otherworldly intruder. Segregated cyclones were being funneled from clouds bigger than a few whales each. All marked with angry gray and raging yellow. The brightness would culminate together and be forced down upon the man in lightning hot arcs of energy. Only to be bitten away by a _twang_ of a sword parry. The running reaper's dark counterpart made sure to hoof stomp any inkling of fear inside the mind of his orange haired king.

Splashes in puddles. Pattering footsteps. The short coo of sleeping breath. Ichigo was once more running in slicked, rain washed streets. His brow furrowed as he put more and more energy into facing the roused winds or dodging the spray of a freshly broken window. Turning down an alley between two buildings three feet apart, apprehension finally set into Ichigo. The claustrophobia of the aligning structures resulted in the well known feeling of his heart descending into his stomach. Most of the time he just brazenly jumped into a battle with barely any time to think about it. He wasn't scared; he wasn't afraid to die. But this time, while looking at the small bundle in his arms politely sleeping in his rain washed wake, he feared what he'd leave behind.

The rain from his face slowly ran down it stirred by the rabid running movement. Dripping onto Rukia's like tear drops. Ichigo kept running shaking any feeling of premonition or prophetic garbage his brain would conjure to the image. He just kept on running.

Through his soaked eyelashes his amber eyes took in a blurry image. He had no idea how long he traveled. Like before, instinct was leading his trail knowing where to go. The image was a small apartment building. On the second floor a visage of red, long hair. A face, concerned and honest. A voice. A voice yelling but his deadened ears could hear nothing except the racket of his own persistent thoughts. He got closer and closer the voice becoming more and more urgent. It acquired what he believed a shocked nuance, yet still no words were definable. Then he heard.

"Blood! Blood? Kurosaki-kun, what happened to Rukia? Come in! What're you doing, don't fall over kurosaki-kun! Stay with me!" He felt a slap. The girl with flowing beautiful red hair slapped him, she'd come down from the second floor to help. Great, now that's two girls that've had their way with his already abused face. Ichigo had barely any energy left for another thought. He felt weight be taken from his burden and a firm hand leading him. Somewhere. His brain too foggy to remember. Too tired.

A second blended into a minute. That minute blended into a couple. Then lying on a now soaked soft plush of a brightly lit interior room he realized before finally succumbing to his own exhaustion. Exhaustion that was due to running all the way here, blasting through walls, enduring terrible conditions, and finally carrying what he'd come for somewhere safe.

The home of Inoue Orihime.

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><p>Atop a rooftop a man quietly sat fending danger off when it arose. Truly his mind was engrossed in thought and hardly realized at all where he currently was. Thinking to himself, or rather the other part of himself.<p>

"_Let us move forward. Take them with surprise and end it. We only have one target and he's exhausted. That was the plan, wasn't it? But no, here we sit cold and shaking on a damn rooftop vent asking ourselves 'Oh gee, wonder when he'll get here.'. _

"Partner, you know I'd love to. But the boss specifically asked us to use the girl as bait and simply wait for him. Do you really mind though? Watch as nature struggles and flails against us. Rather pitiful."

"_Yeah, you're just **so **great. Never mind the fact if your zanpakuto was any different we'd both most likely be dead. At least then I wouldn't have to listen to your arrogant dribble. Or for god's sake witness your creepy flashes of lust."_

"Boss sent us for a reason, I 'spose. Hey... You really didn't think she was cute?"

"_He most likely hoped we'd die too considering the similarities between our targets and ourselves. Just a matter of time, partner. And dude, she looked like she was fourteen. You're a real sick fuck."_

Booming laughter erupted from the sitting man. He wiped his soaked face with his sleeve wiping away both the water and the laughter tears. "You say that like you aren't. Who was the one cutting her up so much, her clothes even? Begging me to get her all bloody like that."

The dark doppelganger seemed sheepish. _"I- hmm. Right, I remember now. I was only trying to make her tanner. Such a pale gir-"_

"Bullshit! And you know it, too." The man scratched at his head a little bit dislodging some collected water which promptly dumped itself into his face.

"_Ha! Did you see that? HA!"_

"Don't make me come in there!"

"_Bring it on. If water can make you it's bitch this should be easy."_

The man smirked. The sharp and hot _zang! _of deflected lightning brought him from his inner state catching reality at it's worst. Seriousness frowned in on his brow and smile, remembering nights like these before. Terrible nights that took. Nights that steal from you. "Just shut up in there. Let's just wait." He crossed his arms and said no more.

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><p>Bright fluorescent orange blinded his brown eyes. Closing them quickly from the stinging light Ichigo rolled around on what felt like rough carpet. Confused and trying to roll away from the light he encountered something slim and soft. In his sleepy state he enclosed his arms around it and held.<p>

The red haired girl cocked her head sideways curiously inspecting her patient. "Umm, Ichigo.. I'm trying to heal the slashes on Rukia's back. It's difficult when you're sleeping on her butt." Rukia was lying stomach down with only her back exposed. The cloth she was wearing was new, Orihime probably put it on her to replace the slashed Reaper garb.

Ichigo pinwheeled. "What? Rukia I'm so- huh? Seems like she's still conked out." Crisis averted. He looked around at the small apartment. A room much like his own except doubling the space for a kitchen and a large fridge to store all of Orihime's fearsome ingredients. Some windows were rattling with their curtains flying all about and every now and again a boom would shake earth and Orihime would wince and utter a little sound of fright.

"Orihime.. You really didn't have to come. You're practically trembling." He then felt the spiritual hum of Orihime's healing shield over him. Looking back he still didn't quite understand how her amazing powers work. The story was she got her hairpins from her currently deceased brother. Long story short, the pins turned into little helpers that can basically uber curaga the hell out of whatever it covers. More specifically though, she had the power to 'reject' incidents in time that were better left undone. Countless times Orihime had pulled his ass outta' the grave. He wasn't the only one, either. Ishida, Chad, Renji...

Ichigo smiled and looked over to Rukia. She was wearing a flowered kimono opened to the back and displayed rapidly healing, but still gnarly slashes. Not deep, just long like a slim blade curving it's length into her. But ever so more proficiently he could see the tears being pulled out of reality. He felt the pressure and it was like nothing else. Calm, gentle, but not worried. Hopeful, maybe. The shield radiated waves to induce the affect making the results take a little bit. That was good. He planned to leave before the midget woke up.

"I'm fine kurosaki-kun. It was a teensy bit more difficult curing you while also healing such extensive damage to Rukia. Now, will you tell me what happened?" Orihime moved her hands ever so slightly maneuvering her healing abilities.

Ichigo bit his tongue. Then responded. "I know if I said you should've just left me and concentrated on Rukia you wouldn't have anyway. Thank you Orihime, but thank you so much more for saving Rukia." Ichigo got up, breaking free from the shield covering and experienced that blood rush to the head you get when moving too quickly. He landed on the couch and noticed his black attire was now dry. In fact, it looked brand new. He was always so fascinated on her abilities also mending his current attire.

Orihime smiled. "I don't need thanks, Ichigo. I'm the one who begged you take me with you after all. But you avoided my question. What's going on?"

Ichigo paroled the kitchen inspecting the various foods available to eat. He couldn't decide which was less edible. The soybean banana tomato paste ice cream or the brownie injected with broccoli, parsley, and kitty litter. He finally set his sights on plain bread. He found his sword lying against the wall. Large bladed and no guard. Long handle with a bandage trail behind it. He picked it up and set it against his back. Now was the time. Orihime recovered him enough to remove any form of exhaustion. And the half loaf of bread he ate would do the rest. Because bread does that. He began:

"Something out there hurt Rukia. I don't know who or what. What I do know is that this thing whatever it may be has a firm appointment with it's ass getting kicked. You're lookin' at the guy about to get some god damn answers for this shit storm." His signature smirk crossed his face.

Orihime looked frightened and her eyes widened. "So you're going to do something _that _dangerous? Kurosaki-kun, I can't convince you not to..I know that. But promise if things get dire enough you'll come back here. Let me fix you up again?" She looked on with hopeful eyes and her beaming smile.

Ichigo took a few steps toward the door without answering. Hand on the knob he stalled before turning it. "Orihime, I can't promise you that. So I won't. But I can promise you that I'll come back. Not on my shield or in a casket either." He turned his face, a side figure highlighting his smirk. "I promise you _and_ Rukia. I'm gonna' win!" Ichigo turned the door and left before the gale was allowed to enter Orihime's warm but inevitably doomed home.

She watched him go with tears in her eyes. He always, always did that. Had to leave and fight battles way bigger than he was. Battles that he didn't even need to fight! Make everyone worried only to come back sometimes clinically dead just so he could thumbs up at the end. The redhead both hated and loved him for that. And as the door slammed shut and her tears rolled down her cheek she wanted to say what she knew she wouldn't ever dare say.

_I love you, Kurosaki-kun._

The thunder boomed and Rukia stirred. Opening wide violet eyes, "Where am I? .. Orihime? Why are you crying?"

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><p>A mindless hollow. Without personality or intelligent thought. A wild, mad, killing machine. That was what was locked inside the bodies of other Visored. Inside him was... a reflection of himself. A dark split personality. It shared his face, memories, and even battle style. It frequently tested his strength to see if his ass is good enough to sit upon the apparent white stallion he believed himself to be. But it's just so strange. His Zanpakuto once stated that he and the hollow are one. Separate entities residing as one in a still shared human vessel with his own soul. He imagined it gets kinda' crowded in there and what not.<p>

Old man Zangestsu should be anything but 'lonely' with all that shoved in there. He knew that whenever he was lacking faith or training in his sword the hollow would appear dominant as it's a reflection of Ichigo and his power. It should never outmatch the power of Zangetsu's. He had asked the other Visoreds if they had to put up with insane power triangles and all he received were a few odd looks. Dead end.

Or at least, it was. Now he could feel it. Feel the pressure that wasn't a single force. Feel the coldness it radiated. The danger, intimidation, arrogance, and immense power. He could also sense something else which ran his blood to the boiling point.

Complete, perfect harmony between steed and jockey. Hollow and reaper. King and servant.

He felt it getting stronger and stronger as he approached. He knew it was waiting. Waiting for Ichigo to meet it on the rooftop of the building. The eye of the storm. Molding his pressure into super slick splashes his Flash Step increased in speed dramatically than using it in the original method in which you compress your pressure and use it to propel you forward. It was basically the same concept, but Byakuya had given him the idea to edit the design when he mentioned he concentrated his own pressure in high moving air currents to drastically increase speed. Ichigo so far hadn't mastered the talent preferring more to rely on his balance.

The derelict building was upon him and time for thoughts or strategy was over. He already knew his: go in strong and wipe him out in a single hit. His knees gathered pressure and launched his body through hard hitting blobs of rain and sharpened hail. Scratches riddled his face. Past the roof he saw the query sitting upon a vent just smiling at him. His sword in the air acting as a sort of lightning rod.

Up in the sky gray clouds chilled his bones as Ichigo wielded his blade and targeted the man still too far away to adequately see. He hefted the Zangetsu above his head and focused his pressure in the sword. The air was cutting as the downward drag was starting to reign over his body. He gritted his teeth. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Momentum was rapidly being attained and Ichigo could see his first details of the before specter. Brown wavy hair cut in style over his forehead. A white jacket that looked like a Captain's. A collared shirt with a striking blue tie pressed neatly with it under the black attire of a Reaper. Finally Ichigo saw and felt the devil cold of his gray eyes. He opened his mouth and screamed.

"Getsuga Tensho!" Pressure around and absorbed into the blade was first shoved from the blade and then solidified into tangible power using the substitute's killing intent as focal for it's destructive force. A huge wave of blue death that made the other seem like a yapping Chihuahua was waged upon the sitting man who quickly got from his seat and took his blade to meet the impact. Ichigo descended, still falling, to finish the kill if the Lunar Fang was insufficient watched the man.

The man said aloud with quiet force. "Refute!" Ichigo was stunned as the wave momentarily lost it's bite and the pressure was harmlessly passed through the enemy. Only for the bite to reemerge a second later and fly into an adjacent building. Completely demolishing it. Ichigo fell to the ground using pressure to steel his landing. His Zanpakuto fell across from the enemy's almost three foot thing life taker.

His eyes were set and cold. His smile amused. His clothing confusing for a moment until Ichigo finally sunk in the fact... that looked awfully like a Captain's haori. "What are you? Why did you hurt Rukia?" The man broke from the engagement of swords and responded with a voice that was fun sounding but also leaving the element of dread.

"What am I? How rude of you to ask. I'm obviously a Reaper. Unless ya think I killed someone for these clothes; though I doubt anyone would do that.. Itchy and uncomfortable." He straightened his tie which he seemed to be quite fond of. "That was quite the attack you launched. Draining, wasn't it? Up side is if it would've hit I might be losing some limbs! Now that would be bad."

Ichigo breathed hard. _Damn, he was right_. The attack was taxing. "If you are a Reaper.." He eyed his target. The wavy hair on his forehead, the movement or convulsions of his slightly tanned skin, and he couldn't help noticing he looked a lot younger than he seemed. Twenty or so. "If you are.. Why did you attack your comrade?" Ichigo struck again fueled by Rukia's falling.

He initiated the attack by side stepping to the opponent's weak and swordless left while ensuring full strength for his. The man rounded about with incredible speed and reach with the long blade easily switching hands with the Zanpakuto parrying Ichigo's strike. Then he unleashed a flurry of long jabs at safe distance pushing pressure into the blade almost like a flash step limited to only his arm and the swing of the blade.

Ichigo inched back dodging the subsequent attacks until the man overextended even his massive reach and he cut in with a Getsuga charged Zangetsu. "Here it comes!" And then Ichigo swiped empty air. Amber eyes widened. He felt a fingertip behind his back. _What? I didn't even see the Spirit Trail. He didn't Flash Step!_

"Destructive Art number one hundred and two: Cell Brake!" Ichigo's mind froze at the words. _Shit! I have to dodge! Have to dodge!_ A green pulse started leaking from the man's fingertips only to be narrowly avoided by Ichigo's advanced Flash Step. The poison harmlessly spilled and the man flung his hand to rid himself of the spell.

He spread his arms. "Wow, that was fast! I mean it. I really thought you'd be a goner to my cell brake. Powerful stuff, ya know?"

All the while the rain kept pouring and both were sufficiently soaked. Thunder and wind wept at them but they kept being rebuffed by the man's Zanpakuto. Ichigo held his handle blade down with a knee wet in rain. The density of pressure needed to escape that blow was tiresome. He sputtered, "What was that? How can you disappear without flash stepping or somethin'? And.. a thing like that...! And.. why is your hollow laughing!" Ichigo picked up his blade and roared. Head on charge.

The man seemed momentarily stunned as his blade met Ichigo's again in a foray of thrusts. His grey eyes losing amusement being replaced by confusion. Molding pressure into air drafts they fought in the dangerous air. The fast, angry currents making the battle seem supersonic as they exchanged blows. They locked in another engagement and the man lifted his foot and kicked the orange haired enemy away. "How did you know my hollow was laughing? Understandably it does that most of the time anyway so even a bad guesser could exude that sorta' talent. But how did you even know I had one?"

Ichigo wiped the blood from his mouth. "It's not nice to kick in the face. And I can just sense it. Feel it's individual pressure. It's ugly, that monster of yours."

The man swept his hair from his face back. It was shorn to a point and ruffled. "Interesting. But you're at a disadvantage."

"And what's that?"

They circled each other on the original rooftop examining for any opening. "You've no idea what my Zanpakuto actually does do you?"

Ichigo smirked. "It doesn't do anything, really. It's an illusion type, probably. It can momentarily affect reality and change it. I don't know how but I do know that's how you're dealing with this storm and how you evaded my Fang."

The man pointed his sword directly at Ichigo. "Good. That's right. My Zanpakuto is named Umbra Indoi. It analyzes energy and spirit particles and can reconstruct the bonds that hold forces together to loosen them so they'll fall apart, if only for an instant. The only interferer is will so I can't just kill you outright. I've been using this to separate, for example, a lightning bolt's heat from it's location. Transforming it into rageless light. I did the same with your Lunar Fang. Just loosened the bond between the power and the force that was moving it. It's all very quite simple, actually."

Ichigo listened and nodded. "Neat trick." He started closing the distance.

The man quirked his head. "Didn't you want to know who I was? I already know you. Ichigo Kurosaki, Substitute Reaper. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Nalucire Liant. Of the famous Squad Zero."

Nalucire extended his hand in a mocking handshake. "Pleasure to meet ya."

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><p><em>Does this also qualify as a cliff?<em>

_I'd really appreciate on people's thoughts on if I did this well. I try to add in physics and explanation for the magical feats Bleach does so simply but it gets meandering at times. Again, I apologize for being so late with this chapter. I went on vacation and whatever. I must warn you though, I run on reviews. The more I get the more motivated I am. The more likely I'm willing to continue with this. Feel free to give me suggestions on what should happen (although I pretty much have a basic outline of what's going to happen) and what you'd like to read about. _

_Sorry if I'm breaking some sort of rule by adding Kido or adding characters in a preexisting group. Then again people make up Soul Reapers all the time... Why should Squad Zero be any different? I decided to use Romanian for at least this character. _

_Does anyone believe I should add a glossary? Note, too. If there's any grammar mistakes I apologize. I have no beta. _

_'Til the next_

_~CS_


	4. Chapter 3: 'In This Together' Nonsense

_I've decided to forgo the use of any Japanese based on the fact I know about four words of it. It doesn't really take away from my story so it can't matter much. I'll be using languages I do know some of, but if you're a native speaking and I make a mistake please forgive me. Or feel free to correct me; that is the preferable option. _

_This will be a relatively shorter than the last chapter that'll provide some backstory and possibly some intrigue into the mix. Don't you hate it when an episode ends in the middle of a fight? _

_My rating is the same. Which is most definitely **M**. Blood, violence, free use of language, and plenty of other amazing adult topics._

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach, but I can make a mean bowl of tomato soup._

_The fourth makes a dollar._

_Here we go_

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><p><strong>'In This Together' Nonsense<strong>

_Chapter 3_

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><p>The surroundings were new. They were uncomfortable to the girl restlessly turning in the not quite small but certainly not medium sized bed. The blankets were warm, the sheets inviting, even the comforter should have been soothing. But this four star hotel class bed held a secret; a prerogative. Even as sleep tried to ebb itself away at her eyes and at her limbs she felt restless as if she were sensing something.<p>

The coverings, the entire bed tried to lull her in it's comfortable melodic slumber with it's cozy allure but the girl gradually exited the sheets and placed slim foot on cold carpet. The storm was still roaring it's mad argument at the earth and she squeaked in surprise. Throwing on some sweatpants to cover her slim legs and panties she padded out forward looking around her booked room.

The red haired girl had come to the close city of Rike from Karakura when the massive storm began it's rage. It flooded rivers and made conducting everyday normal life very difficult. By the second day an issue of evacuation had been ordered and she picked up and left with the other patrons of their city. The population of Karakura was stored in three major hotels here in the eerily close but unaffected Rike. To the south lay The Plaza, to the west Fifteen Nights took residence. And where the red haired girl was currently standing Moon Inn welcomed her. She slipped on a large night shirt over her and surveyed the room.

Predictable assortment of items you'd expect to find in an upper scale hotel room contributed to the space. A modern lamp on a varnished wooden bed side desk. A TV, flat screen, hung up on the wall with pictures of things like animals roaring into a pack, or school, or pride, or whatever of it's own. The girl felt out of place being so disconnected with the people she identified with most. Her very best friends that've been through and done so much with her. Her palms touched the cool sliding glass window and she looked up into the angry sky.

She sighed and went to go find her phone. The contacts list was pulled up. Chad, or Sado, was at Fifteen Nights and Ishida was at The Plaza. That hotel and many others were owned by his father. But Ichigo was staying here in this one, a room a couple doors down. She felt safe with him so close but ever since a little while ago she had an uneasy feeling. The storm was beginning to scare her more and more with it's chaos so she retreated to the door where she heard muffled sound.

"-are you sure?" The voice was rough and tough; but also gentle and deep. A timbre of soft pleasantry with an undertone of seriousness she'd come to know quite well.

"She's out there, pops. I can just- Well, I just _know._" Powerful and entrancing, the sound of Ichigo Kurosaki. Orihime's heart quivered at the thought of two entirely separate things. She knew Rukia had been gone for a mission and Ichigo was getting antsy about her. Worry filled her for her raven haired friend and just as fast jealously flared and threatened to take over. She tried to repel it, deny it, or even just ignore it but there was no hope extinguishing the flame she held for Ichigo. The unflinching hope it might somehow work out. That belief collided hard with Ichigo's words. That he just somehow knew when no one else did. That link intimidated any she kept dear to Ichigo.

"Son... I don't like this. You could be seriously hurt. We don't even know if she's in any trouble. You know I'd go running myself if my third daughter were in any trouble." Isshin sounded exasperated. And worried.

"You have Yuzu and Karin to take care of, dad! Look, I have to do this. Take care of Orihime, too?" The woman listening behind her door jumped at her name hitting her head against the metal handle of her door. That being the least of her problems she triggered the door to start opening with her falling face flat into the hallway.

"Woah, ha.. haha. Opps. Didn't think it opened like that. Yeah..." Orihime scratched her head while Ichigo looked less than believing. Ishhin, however-

"Beautiful Orihime! Such a foul tragedy that the hideous monster latching itself, cleverly masquerading as a handle, onto the door would aspire to hurt you!" Isshin dropped to one knee and took the hand of hers in both of his. "I swear I'll avenge your suffering. I promise to you I won't hold anything back-"

"Give it a rest!" Ichigo stadium punted his father back inside his own hotel room where the faint sounds of Karin yelling at him for waking her up could be heard. "Sorry, Orihime. I gotta' go." He made to leave out of a hotel window conveniently set near a vending machine that offered Twix. Before he opened the latch he purchased one and ate it for strength. He turned back to Orihime when he heard her voice.

"Ichigo! Let me come with you!" Orihime pleaded with him. She wanted to make sure Rukia would be safe. The violet eyed Reaper was one of her closest friends and even if she didn't like her bond with Ichigo she'd never allow her bond with her to be severed. She also felt she'd be safer and more content with Ichigo.

"You can't come with me, Orihime. It's too dangerous." His brown eyes met hers of the same color and concern radiated within them. In both their eyes. For an instant he felt tempted to let her tag along then he realized that idea would put her at too much risk. He couldn't do it. No, he'd never endanger Orihime like that.

She redoubled her efforts. "Please, Kurosaki-kun! What if you need my help? If Rukia is hurt? There's no one else that could save her!" She twisted and entwined her fingers looking down at her feet. "Please, Ichigo you could-"

The window slid open and the orange haired Substitute turned for a moment. "I'm sorry, Orihime. I really am. But I can't let you come with me." He stepped onto the windowsill about to leap.

Only to be thrown back just as fast with a red faced angry Orihime looming above him. "Listen! I'm coming with you so I can fix you when you break everything in your body like you always somehow manage to do! And I'm coming in case Rukia needs saving. Now get up, we're wasting time, Kurosaki-kun!" In a few moments Orihime was wrapped in a large cloak on Ichigo piggy back style with his mouth still trying to compromise.

"Look, I'm just gonna' drop you off at your house real quick. If anything needs savin' I'll make sure I get there in time. That's a promise." Orihime nodded and he leapt from the hotel into the night sky unaware of the danger out there or the man cutting bloody ribbons into flesh.

* * *

><p>Rukia felt warm. For the first time in days she actually felt warm. The days were such a blur, such a rush her mind wouldn't register anything at first. Just warmth, lights, and a few memories of being torn by a man with a vicious smile and cold eyes. She stirred a bit and tried to open her eyelids so her eyes could tell her where she was. She struggled and finally managed progress. More bright yellow light fluttered into her view. An orange blurb distorted the sights around her but she zeroed in on a face. A rather pretty one from what she could tell. Her hands were wiping away something. And then it all clicked.<p>

"Where am I? … Orihime? Why are you crying?" Rukia's voice broke through to her and she trembled a little. She wiped the tears on her night shirt and tried to smile at the doe eyed girl. She tried to begin several times but faltered. Rukia wanted to reach out and try to comfort the girl but was too immobile and too tired. She just looked on and waited.

Orihime finally calmed down a little bit and took a large breath. "Okay so first I have this weird feeling in my hotel room and I hear voices and it was Ichigo and his dad and Ichigo said you were in trouble and told Isshin to watch me and the twins and I accidentally fell into the hallway but Isshin didn't care I was eavesdropping and said such nice things but Ichigo kicked him and told me he was going to go look for you so I said I wanted to come and he said yes after I yelled so horribly at him(!) and he dropped me off going through the terrible rain and then he came back all rain trodden and exhausted carrying you and you were so hurt I tried my hardest to try and fix you and Ichigo and then he got better and he was lying on your butt and then he left to go fight the thing causing the storm then you got better and I'm just so happy!" She practically fell over out of breath.

Rukia's still slow mind failed to comprehend the rabid speech. But something _did_ hit the mark. "Ichigo was lying on my butt?" Rukia growled only to feel woozy. "Thank you so much for helping me out like this, Orihime. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for you."

Orihime smiled, if even halfheartedly. "I'm so worried about him. Do you think he'll be okay, Rukia?"

"That man, the one I fought, was terribly strong. I don't know who he was but it felt like a Soul Reaper. Orihime-" She turned and smiled with a muster of courage. "If anyone can take down that guy it's Ichigo. Believe in him." Even then Rukia still wasn't sure. The man in the apartment room was crazy strong. Probably stronger than even a Captain. The spiritual pressure he could release was on par with Captain Zaraki's, the titan of Squad Thirteen. "But even so. I can put in an order for reinforcement. Now where is that soul phone."

Orihime blanched. "Uh, well it sorta', kinda' broke when I was putting you into new clothes. It was already falling apart at the time, though."

The raven haired Reaper sighed. "It's fine. We'll just have to trust Ichigo not to go and die."

Orihime seemed less than reassured. Anything to break the tension, "So do you wanna' try this new brownie I've been working on?"

Rukia's mind still being slow said, "Yeah, sure. That'd be great."

* * *

><p>The world was calm. It was always the way it had been; then again until recently. In the past month the world had shook. The untouchable, unshakeable, unchanging dimension had actually rumbled. Now the world again was calm. But the Boss was not. He'd raged when his palace had crumbled slightly flexing the support on it's foundation. This was followed by all inhabitants being expunged from the property and the Boss dwelling alone silently.<p>

Squad Zero went about it's daily activities, which were basically nothing except keeping an eye out on most things, with their figurehead being kept in voluntary solitary confinement. But somehow something was different. Something was being planned or happening. It was the oddest of excitements. The strangest of emotions. The feeling something was actually moving_ forward_ in this world was exhilarating.

He thought about all of this as he straightened his tie and walked up the tiring rocky steps to the Stone. His white coat billowed behind him and he moved higher and higher up the miles. His gray eyes bore no faint of fatigue or weariness. They only expressed his feeling of happiness. He'd been so absolutely, everlastingly _bored_. Now shit was happening. He smiled up to his eyes.

"_So.. What'dya think is gonna' happen up there? We've never been invited to the Stone, ya know."_

"We obviously have a job. There's no other reason to visit the Stone then to leave this miserable place. Before I go back I'm planning on mastering this 'Subway' and proving to all the humans I'm top shit."

"_I'm very embarrassed by you." _The dark said it condescendingly and with every ounce of honesty the thing could handle.

"Partner, I thought we were friends. The whole 'in this together' nonsense all the movies talk about."

"_You haven't seen a movie in fifty years."_

"I read reviews!"

The stone steps were almost at an end. Over the top of the seemingly endless mountain of crafted stair the man saw the line of horizon giving view to a large moon. He thought it was absolutely magnificent the way it shined and illuminated the boring world below. The only interesting thing besides it was his eternal roommate. He climbed the last of the treacherous steps and surveyed the unknown wonder before him. The Stone was large as was apparent. But it flattened as a plateau at the peak giving room to probably more than two hundred feet in diameter. He walked close his steps increasingly leading him to a large table only one other was sitting at.

The man took a seat at the side edge of the table, an arm casually leaning over the back looking at the figure to have yet say a word. The man was sure the figure's aura would be crushing if he felt anything at all from him. But that was just the thing. _Nothing_ was exuded from the other man sitting at the head of the table. Not even a sign or trace of life.

They both simply waited. The man decided to speed up his trip outta' this snooze fest. "Boss, I have no intention of speaking out of turn but I've come as you've requested."

The figure cocked his head and said no words but suddenly everything became clear to the man. A mission, a job, a plan, whatever it could be called was delivered and he knew his prerogative. It sent a shiver down his spine as he got from the chair and unsheathed his sword. He walked across past the figure to an upturned stone marking the unblemished plateau.

He said quietly, "Hear the Oken's cry." The rock transmuted into a plain black door with red rose inlay. The door was a reflection of the passenger and it's appearance entirely depended on who or what was using it at the time. Before the man left through the door slowly opening and leaking bright light the figure got from his seat.

He vocalized his words and that was the only time the man had ever heard the Boss actually speak. The sound was haunting and carried the weight of something infinitely ancient and powerful. Something older than time and sharper than the blade strapped to his back. The figure then disappeared before the man's eyes in tendrils of shadow. Disappearing completely in an instant.

The man stepped through the door and encountered the world he'd fantasized about. And it was ready for him. Lightning shook from the heavens blasting through blue sky bee-lined for him. He deflected the arc his heart still hammering over his shadow's voice re-hearing the figure say his ominous command.

"Don't fail me, Nalucire."

* * *

><p><em>As you probably noticed this was mainly to fill in a few questions and garner somewhat more than it answered. I don't have much to say except I'd really appreciate it if you'd review. I'd like to hear anything you'd be willing to say if it's criticism, flattery, advice, ideas, suggestions.. ect. <em>

_Mainly, I really hope you guys have fun reading this story. I put a decent amount of time and a moderate amount of thought into it and it makes my heart sing if I can let the Reader experience as much fun reading it as I do writing it. _

_'Til the next_

_~CS_


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